As if on cue, her mother called up the stairs. “Megan!”
Megan rolled onto her stomach, releasing a long, low groan into her comforter. Only an act of God would get her through this day without strangling her mother.
Chapter Thirteen
Megan was tired, cranky, and starving. Which was more than pathetic since she’d just left a restaurant after having lunch. Megan’s mother had ordered for her while she was in the restroom. And even though Megan had asked her to order a cheeseburger, she wasn’t all that surprised when the waitress served her a garden salad with fat-free dressing on the side.
Megan’s mouth dropped open, and she sought her mother’s attention, which wasn’t hard since Nicole was watching her like a hawk. “What happened to my cheeseburger?”
“You’re not a teenager anymore, Megan,” her mother said, picking up her fork. “You’ve gotten . . . hippy.”
Gram had been quiet for most of the morning, but her interest perked up. “Megan’s a hippie?” She looked into Megan’s eyes. “Do you smoke the weed?”
Megan couldn’t stop her chuckle. “No Gram, I don’t smoke the weed. And contrary to what Mom thinks, I don’t hug trees even if I do try to save them in the Amazon.” She lifted her eyebrows and dared her mother to press the issue.
Surprisingly, her mother ignored the taunt and picked at her own salad. When the waitress came to take away their empty plates, Megan ordered a slice of cheesecake, but her mother insisted they were running behind schedule and there wouldn’t be time for her to eat it. In a burst of defiance, Megan ordered it to go and told the waitress to put it on a separate bill so her mother couldn’t use the cost against her later.
Now here Megan sat, in the back seat of her mother’s Lincoln, eating her cheesecake with a plastic fork, offering bites to her grandmother who was in the front passenger seat.
“Don’t get any crumbs on that seat, Megan Nicole,” her mother said in a tight voice. “I just had the car detailed two days ago.”
“I’m not five years old, Mom,” Megan said as she took a bite, a tiny piece falling off her fork and onto the seat. Megan glanced up at the rearview mirror to see if her mother had noticed, while brushing away the crumb. Rather than helping, her maneuver smeared the creamy filling across the leather.
Oh, crap.
She dug a tissue out of her purse, trying not to giggle.
She was in brighter spirits when her mother pulled up to the bridal shop. Libby was standing on the sidewalk waiting for them.
Megan gave her a tight hug. “I love you, Libs!”
“You owe me drinks later for putting up with Knickers twice in less than twenty-four hours,” she whispered in Megan’s ear.
“Deal.”
They went into the shop, Gram’s outfit drawing looks from other shoppers at the strip mall as she shuffled to the door. She wore a red sequined vest over a black T-shirt with the words “Momma’s Home Boys” printed in a sparkly red. Her black capris and red flats completed the outfit. When one middle-aged man’s jaw dropped, Gram winked and said, “Give me your number and I’ll set up a naked yoga session with you.”
Megan’s mother hustled her into the bridal shop and immediately took charge, going up to the counter and announcing they had arrived for their one-thirty fitting. The clerk took them to a viewing area and told them to have a seat.
After Megan’s mother got Gram situated in an overstuffed chair, she glanced at Megan and Libby, then at the door. “Where’s Blair?”
Megan suppressed a sigh. “She couldn’t get off work.” She’d known better than to ask.
“What?” her mother screeched.
“She has a very important job, Mother. She’s a big-deal attorney.”
Her mother scowled. “This takes precedence.”
“I’m sure the woman whose cheating husband tried to steal her house out from under her thinks differently.”
Libby sat up straighter. “I’m going to see Blair tonight, so I told her I’d pick up her dress, Mrs. Vandemeer.”
“What if it needs additional alterations?”
Libby waved her hand as though it were a non-issue. “She’ll be fine.”
To Megan, it was obvious Libby’s bright smile was forced, but her mother didn’t seem to notice. “Well, let’s hope so. I’d hate to see Megan’s wedding ruined over an ill-fitting bridesmaid dress.”
Libby started to giggle, but Megan stomped on her foot to shut her up. Of course, she knew what Libby was thinking. The dress was the least of Knickers’ concerns at this point.
The employee emerged from the back, her face beaming. “Your dresses are in the dressing rooms. If you’ll follow me . . .”
Libby went into a room by herself while the employee followed Megan into the larger dressing room.
“Did you bring the proper undergarments?”
Megan opened her purse and pulled out the bag with the strapless bra. Her mother had given it to her before they got to the store, presuming she’d forget one. It annoyed Megan that Knickers was right, even though there was a reason for it—Megan had packed thinking she wouldn’t need one.
Once she had her bra on, the employee handed her a crinoline slip and Megan hooked the side, staring in the mirror in confusion. “I didn’t think my slip was this full.”
“This was the one purchased.”
Megan let it go. She had bought the dress eight months ago; maybe she’d forgotten.
The woman unzipped a bag and told Megan to lift her arms so she could put the dress over her head. “But face the wall first. I want you to turn and look in the mirror, so you can get the full effect.”
Megan did as she was told, surprised that the dress felt much heavier than she remembered. When she turned to face the mirror, she realized why.
“This isn’t my dress.”
The employee’s eyes widened in fear. “I’m sorry, Ms. Vandemeer. I’m afraid it is.”
What did that mean? “No. It most certainly is not.” Megan’s voice was firm as she took in the ball-gown-style dress covered in silk fabric roses and half a million crystals. It looked like fairies had puked all over it.
“Let me try to get this zipped up, and I’ll check on it.” The woman sounded panicked as she fought the zipper. “If you could take a deep breath.”
Megan took a deep breath as the woman continued to struggle behind her. “I look just like Cinderella gone wrong.” Then it hit her. Surely, her mother didn’t . . . “What size is this dress?”
“A six.”
Megan picked up the skirt in her hands, ready for war. “Open the door.”
The woman held it open, looking like she wanted to crawl under a chair as Megan stormed out into the viewing area.
“Oh!” her mother squealed when Megan emerged. “The dress is gorgeous!”
Gram, who’d leaned her head back in the chair, let out a soft snore.
Libby stood on the small stage, her eyes alight with horror, although Megan wasn’t sure which dress had induced that reaction. Her friend was wearing a pale pink ball gown with a full crinoline skirt.
“What are these?” Megan asked, dropping the skirt with one hand and waving between Libby and herself.